


It's About Control

by Cheshire_Grin_Girl



Series: Control [1]
Category: Supernatural (TV)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Dom Sam Winchester, Dom/sub, F/M, Slow Build, Sub Castiel, Sub Dean Winchester, Switching
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-25
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-06-10 16:08:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6963673
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheshire_Grin_Girl/pseuds/Cheshire_Grin_Girl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I had been careless, the lack of a current hunt blunting my instincts and lulling me into a perilous state of relaxation, a state that I couldn’t really afford to be in. And now, my secret was out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Previously Well Kept Secret

_//I originally wrote this in an xReader format, but another chapter I wrote later on was written via view of my character so I decided to change it. If I didn’t get all the tenses sorted out, please feel free to comment below//_

_//Also brief mentions of cutting....//_

A pair of almost silver pale blue eyes shot up to stare at the reflection of the door in the mirror she was standing in front of as the creaking hinges alerted her to another person entering the shoddy motel bathroom she was currently occupying. Once Allyson saw who was entering her tensed pose relaxed and a somewhat exasperated smile spread itself across her face. “Cas, what’ve we said about personal space, and knocking.” Her voice probably would’ve been a bit more biting if she hadn’t already finished her shower and been mostly dressed, her black hair already dried enough to be forming messy curls around her face. She had become to Castiel’s unfamiliarity with human etiquette a long time ago.

With a look upon his face, she choose to categorize as apologetic Cas looked up to address her. “I’m sorry Allyson,” He said, eyes refusing to meet hers for a second in apology. “But Dean said if we didn’t get on the road soon then we won’t make it back to the bunker before dark. I believe his exact words were ‘We’re already pushing it, I don’t want to spend another night in a fu-“ Allyson cut the angel off before he could finish his sentence. “I get the gist Cas, Dean’s being a prissy princess. Tell me something I don’t know. I was kidding.” Allyson uttered the last part when it looked like Castiel might actually answer that question.

As Allyson bent down to grab the flannel that she would claim wasn’t stolen until the day she died she noticed Castiel was still in the bathroom with her. She was about to tell him that he could leave now when she noticed that his attention was fixed on something. A litany of curses sprang to Allyson’s mind as she noticed what held Castiel so entrapped and she quickly shoved her arms in the sleeves of her flannel.

Before Castiel could speak aloud the question that was forming on his lips Allyson opened hers, cutting off the dark-haired angels unuttered inquiry. “It’s nothing Castiel.” His mouth snapped shut and his eyes flickered up to meet hers, staring at her with one of his deep unsettling stares that crept the rest of the team out. He opened his mouth to speak but was once again cut off by the defensively hunched woman in front of him. “Tell, Dean I’ll be out in a second.” Allyson’s voice was sharp enough that even Castiel picked up on the dismissal. His jaw clenched and a look of annoyance flashed across his face but otherwise, he didn’t say anything, just curtly nodding and leaving the small bathroom.

Allyson’s eyes stayed glued on the door for a couple seconds after Castiel shut it before whirling to glare accusingly at herself in the mirror.  A stream of angry thoughts ran through her head with the force of a whirlwind of knives, tearing apart the sense of security she had held almost seconds later. A hopeful thought rose to the surface of her brain, maybe Castiel might just ask Dean if she had gotten injured, but it was quickly torn apart due to its irrationality. There was no way to mistake the marks on her arm for anything other than self-inflicted.

The knuckles on Allyson’s hands were as pale as the porcelain sink that was being clenched between them. Castiel would ask Dean about them because he fawned over the hunter like he made the sun rise. Then, due to the borderline unhealthy relationship between the two brother’s Sam wouldn’t be out of the loop for long. The faces of the brothers were already swimming in her mind’s eyes. Dean would try to be understanding, but would probably end up yelling, and Sam, Sam would just stare at her with that wounded puppy look that made her insides clench. Neither of them would understand the why.

 Allyson’s eyes once again stared at the reflected door behind her, blue steel tracing the most likely fake patterns on the wood before she composed herself. Her still damp black hair was pulled up into a ponytail and away from her face, and the sleeves of her too-large flannel rolled to just before her elbows. With another deep breath, she turned the knob and stepped into the motel room.


	2. Thinking in Lies, Talking in Truth. Shit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How am I supposed to translate thoughts into words? It just doesn’t work that way in the real world.

Allyson wasn’t sure what she was expecting but it sure as hell wasn’t this. Sure there was anger on Dean’s face, but not enough to make her feel safe. Anger she could deal with, not whatever this hodge podge of emotions was called. Instead, Dean’s face was mostly dominated by surprise, concern, and the whipped puppy looked she had associated with his younger brother. Instead of shouts and accusing phrases, she was getting and uncomfortable silence, and being honest, Allyson wasn’t quite sure how to deal with it.

“Show me.” The tense words uttered from behind Dean’s teeth shocked Allyson out of her analytical revere. Her relief at the emotion overshadowing his tone was drowned beneath a wave of puzzlement regarding his first request. She managed a barely coherent. “What?” Dean’s jaw clenched, and his emerald eyes flashed as he repeated himself. “Show. Me. Where. You. Sliced. Yourself. Up.”

Dean almost felt remorseful when Allyson flinched at the brusque manner of his words, but he denied both himself and her the reprieve. He knew what that sort of thing lead to, and he was going to be damned if he woke up to find Allyson dead in a pool of blood or at the bottom of a pill bottle when he could’ve fucking stopped it. If anger was what she needed to shock her out of whatever spiral she was flying down then that would be his job, he hadn’t missed her look of relief when he snapped at her.

Both ocean-blue and candy-apple-green eyes were glued to Allyson’s hands as she slid the flannel off of her shoulders, revealing the ragged scars covering her upper arm. Castiel’s eyes widened in shock momentarily before fading into a resigned sadness while Dean’s just tightened in anger once he noticed the straight red lines marring the ragged claw marks. When a swiftness that shocked both angel and girl Dean’s hands were holding Allyson’s arm in place as he turned it to survey the pinkish skin there.

An unnecessary flinch caused Allyson’s arm to jerk, but Dean’s hands were surprisingly gentle. Only briefly tightening once as he noticed the pattern of thin lines marring the smooth scar tissue of the claw marks. They were all neat and precise all almost the same length, he could’ve see how she progressed, the marks near the top uneven and slightly ragged while nearer to the bottom it looked like they were made with the help of a straight edge.

“It isn’t what you think Dean.” Allyson met his fury filled eyes as he glared down at her for daring to try and explain this when he could quite clearly see exactly what it was. “Oh, it’s not. Why don’t you enlighten me then Allyson.” Her teeth ground together and her anger sparked to burn against his. “You are probably currently running through statistics you heard god knows where.” She shot an apologetic look towards Castiel on account of her blasphemy, but didn’t slow down her spiel. “I have no desire to remove myself from this world for a couple reasons. One, I’d rather not bleed to death via a thousand cuts, If I wanted to die, all I had to do was be just a little but to slow and some big bad monster under the bed would be happy to do it for me.”

Dean flinched and automatically decided to keep her stuck on research duty for a while.

“Two, despite being buddy-buddy with Mr. Celestial Spirit over there, I know there isn’t enough money on this rock called Earth to bribe whatever to deliver my soul anywhere besides down under.”

Castiel kept silent, now was probably not the best time to explain what exactly happens after Death.

“Three, who knows what kind of trouble you three idiots would get into without me around. You’d probably get yourself killed, I’d miss you , but there would become a new meaning to the word hell if I saw you to imbeciles down there after me.”

Heaven wasn’t really on anybody in this businesses’ reality list.

As Allyson opened her mouth to continue and list off a number of points she had lined up, covering the topics of sex, saving people, and stiff drink, Dean cut her off. “Then what is it about Allyson. Because it looks pretty clear cut to me here.” He winced at his choice of words but didn’t let his gaze waver from Allyson’s. “I got the claw marks on the night of my first school dance, my date turned into some furry freak and killed my parents and little sister before someone came and shot him between the eyes.” She could see Dean’s confusion. “It was the day that my life turned upside down and everything went to shit. So to answer your fucking question!” Dean flinched as she tore her arm from his grip, her voice rising to a shout. “No these marks aren’t a desire to separate my soul from my body, they're about a vow to keep it together.” Allyson wasn’t quite sure when she had stood up, but as all the anger started to drain from her body she had the desire to slump back into the chair she had previously occupied. “It’s not about Death, it’s about control.”


End file.
